


What Comes Next?

by NegansOtherWife



Series: Tumblr Requests [7]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: You stay by his bedside and wonder the inevitable. Post 'Season 8' finale. Spoilers.





	What Comes Next?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little slow to update my AO3 with the Tumblr requests I've had in the past. If you haven't read this one, you're in for a treat. x
> 
> My Tumblr: https://negansaysyouearnwhatyoutake.tumblr.com

“He’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” You sigh, taking the bandages from Caleb. He’d taken ample care of Negan and shown no bias. Still, you can’t help but be wary from the events just several days prior. It lingers like an oppressive fog. 

The ride to Hilltop had been pure agony, you’d heard that Negan was hurt but hadn’t realized the extent until you’d seen him caked in blood. So lifeless.

“Doctor?” He watches you nimbly change Negan’s bandages, swabbing the wicked looking laceration on his throat before once again covering the wound, privy of infection.

“No, a nurse.”

“Ah, were you two…?”

“It’s complicated.” Not really, you were scared to admit your feelings, so instead, you’d taken to biding your time on the sidelines. Still, Caleb nods understandingly, like the word ‘complicated’ could sufficiently encase all your conflicted emotions in a way he’d be able to decipher. 

He was starting to grow on you. Even if you weren’t ready to admit it to your self yet.

“Isn’t it always? My mother always said you accept the love you think you deserve. She got it from a book or something. I find that it helps, you know..?” He clears his throat awkwardly after a moment and you look up from your perch beside Negan. “We should give him a quick sponge bath, yeah? He hasn’t had one in almost two days and his condition is stable now.” 

“Alright,” As much as you hated to leave his side you knew he was right, and besides, he was starting to smell a little ripe, “are the towels still on the second floor?”

He doesn’t look up from his clipboard as he mumbles his affirmative.

Leaning close to Negan’s prone frame, you whisper, “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” 

Upon leaving, you allow yourself a brief moment of reprieve. Like a magician performing a magic trick, the brave facade miraculously vanishes. It’s almost frightening how quickly your walls can crumble. Hunched over, you mask your sobs with a clenched fist before gathering the material and renewing your emotional fortress. The mortar hasn’t even dried before you reach the Hilltop’s main building, climbing the stairs to the second-floor pantry. 

“…having him here…” There isn’t a discernible reason as to why you don’t just disregard the muffled voices coming from the study. Pausing by the large double door of what you’d quickly ascertained was someone’s office, you step forward, putting your ear to the door.

“I don’t regret what I did, but you were right. Rick was right about not killing all the Saviors.” Maggie’s voice. Who else could it be?

“He was right.” Your brow furrows in concentration, trying to identify the other person in the room.

“…not about keeping Negan.” Your heart races even at the faint utterance of his name through the wooden door. “We have a lot to do, build this place up. Make it thrive for the people who live here.”

“We will.“

“…but Rick and Michonne…we’re gonna bite our tongues…and show them…” You’re only catching fragments of her words and attempt to lean in closer as if your ear could somehow transcend through solid material. Unbeknownst, the hinges of the door creak drawing the attention of one of the inhabitants inside. 

“Yeah, we will.” You can barely contain the noise of disbelief when you recognize Daryl’s voice. Of all people, him? Had you stepped into the _Twilight Zone_? Or had everyone in your previous group lost their goddamn mind?

“Did you hear that?” 

“Yeah,” Daryl’s voice is much closer this time, too close, and before you can back away, the door is thrust open and his fist knots in the front of your t-shirt, pulling you further into Maggie’s office, “its Y/N. Whad’ya hear?” He demands.

“ _Enough_. Do you realize how _mutinous_ you sound, Daryl? Did I hear you correctly? Are you fucking serious—plotting _against_ Rick? What happened to our group?” You usually weren’t so vulgar but it’d seemed Negan had had more of an influence on you than you’d initially conceived. 

“You shut your goddamn mouth,” He growls pushing you further into the room, surprised when you let out a hard bite of laughter.

“Or what, you’re gonna fucking shoot me?” You step forward grabbing for the knife sheathed in your thigh holster. “I’ll kill you first. I can guarantee that.”

“Enough,” The heavy encyclopedia goes hurtling in your direction, forcing you and Daryl to duck in cover, so as to prevent decapitation, “this is a good thing, Daryl. Now that Y/N knows what we have planned, she can help us convince Rick to kill Negan. Maybe she has something on him.” She turns expectantly in your direction, eyeing your gaping appearance.

“Are you serious? I might not agree with everything Negan’s done, but we finally have a chance for peace and you’re ruining it over some vendetta. What would Beth say, Maggie? All she wanted was peace…”

Daryl crosses the room with three quick strides, shoving you back a foot in a bitter out lash. “Don’t you fucking say her name, Y/N. Just don’t! You have no right, you abandoned _us_!” 

“I did not abandon anyone. If you don’t recall Daryl, I went to the Sanctuary in exchange for _your_ freedom.” You throw it back in his face just as viscously as he’d done, before turning to Maggie in vain, hoping to beat some sense into her. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” You plead.

“You don’t understand, Y/N—!”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Maggie! Glenn died and we’re all feeling his lost—not just you! Have you forgotten that some of us have been with him from the very beginning? It hurts. I! _hurt_!” In vain, you attempt to wipe the tears away. “News flash! People die all the fucking time now. We’ve all lost someone. Tayler. Samson. Rebecca. You know what they all have in common? They all died that night at the satellite outpost because we killed them. Tayler had two kids! Rebecca was pregnant, Maggie! There is blood on our hands, too! So the next time you want to come around here with your self-righteous bullshit, don’t! Some of us are trying to do the hard shit: move on and forgive. It’s hard but that’s the way it has to be…” By the time you’re finished your voice is a hoarse croak and Maggie sits speechless. 

You pivot on your heels, dead set on storming out when you realize that Jesus had been the other person talking. Might as well go for broke. “And you—with you’re damn God complex—you’re just fucking creepy.” You mumble, pushing past Daryl and running all the way back to the infirmary. 

It’s blissfully quiet, allowing for the racing thoughts in your head to calm. Caleb’s gone but Negan is exactly where you left him. And atop everything, you think, you forgot the towels.

“Fuck!” You shriek, sinking into what had become your designated chair beside Negan’s bedside. The repercussions of your words were catching up on you. You’d never been this outspoken. He’d brought that out of you. “Oh, Negan. I don’t think I can do this…”

There’s a tremor in your hands and tears precariously hanging from your lashes. Really, you should have known better. Happiness never lasted this long. There would always be someone or something that would come along and upset the balance. This time it was in the form of a revenge-seeking _throuple_. 

“Remember the first night I came to stay at the factory?” You’re losing sanity points by talking to an unconscious body. But if there was ever someone who could listen, it was him.  “I was so pissed. I’d go straight to work and to my room—nothing else. Then you started to leave Kit-Kat bars at my workstation and I realized you weren’t a _complete_ jackass. Fuck, I’m rambling…it’s just…you always knew what to do.” Shrugging haphazardly, you look for any signs of a miraculous improvement. There are none and your spirits weaken.

“You’re going to die aren’t you?” There’s a slightly hysterical edge to your voice but you can’t seem to care, as you continue. “Just leave like a coward? Well, you can’t— _okay_?  Negan, you’re my best friend.”

Biting the bullet, you think today might as well be the day of repressed revelations. “Oh, who am I kidding? I love you, Negan. Do you hear me? Love, _love_. I can’t have you like this forever so you need to wake up soon, okay?” 

There might as well be static playing on his part. He’s as unresponsive as he was two days ago…and he still needs a shower. You get to stripping him out of his sweat-soaked t-shirt, all the while, regaling memories of the moments you’d spent together. In hopes that he’ll hear.

The sound of approaching footsteps makes you glance towards the door, wary of the culprit. 

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.” Michonne steps further into the room, her movements like always, calculated and precise. “What are you doing here?” There’s so much you want to say to her, but you’ll settle for later. You don’t think you have much left in you. 

“Caleb said he woke up several minutes ago.” She replies, disdain coloring her voice as she motions to Negan. “I came to keep an eye on him while he went and got Rick.”

Wiping the residual tears from your cheeks, you let an uncertain smile unravel upon your face. You’re sure your heart skips a beat. “No, he’s not…”

“Hey, Kit-Kat. Guess the jig is up?” His usual smirk is tempered down by the repressed pain that flickers behind his irises. “Any other aggressive declarations of love that you wan’na…get out…” He motions weakly around the room, “before Rick finishes me off.”

“How much did you hear?” Dread colors your voice. He’d heard you. Breakdown and all.

Clearing his throat, he beckons for the iced water on the table beside his bed. You do so reluctantly and he takes several small sips while you try to collect your thoughts. 

“You shouldn’t be talking and that’s enough water. Try smaller words,” You urge him, ignoring Michonne’s pressing gaze. 

After a heavy pause, he rasps out, “Meant it..?”

Michonne, a woman of few words, utters a small warning before slipping from the room. “Rick will be here soon.” Coming from her, that means a lot. 

The door shuts with a soft click.

It’s only one tear, you reason silently as you watch each other. You can allow yourself one tear. 

Soon his face becomes distorted as the others slip through the cracks of your resolve.

“Come,” He croaks. There’s a moment of hesitance on your part as the rational side of your brain insists you should be cautious of his condition. Your heart soon wins out. 

Carefully arranging your limbs so that you aren’t disturbing any of his bandages you press your head to his heartbeat. A subconscious attempt to soothe your innermost worries.  

“When?”

“When did I know I loved you?” You ask for clarification. The thought of talking about your feeling is nerve-racking and soothing all at once. “I think it was the second time that a Kit-Kat showed up at the infirmary. I asked Dwight where they were coming from—I mean, I knew it was you but…” A poke at your side indicates for you to stop stalling. He knew you so well.

“He told me you were going out of your way on runs to find them. So the next night, I decided to catch you in the act. Remember that night?” He nods. “We talked all night. It’s not that significant, I know. But you were so human and I fell in love with that. We laughed and just like that, I’d fallen in love with you, Negan.”

“Beautiful…that night…” Now he’s crying. You’d never seen him like this. Never thought a person’s tears could invoke this kind of emotion within you. He’s never been this lovely, “want to go back.”

“I’d give anything to go back to last week. But we’re here and we have right now.” You whisper back just as fiercely, wiping the tears from his eyes. The musk of sweat clings to his chest but there’s something about the comfort that his embrace brings, makes you burrow deeper. “I was so scared, Negan. I thought I lost you.”

The sound of numerous approaching footsteps informs you that it’s most likely Caleb with Rick in tow. There’s so much you want to say. Tell him about Maggie and Daryl. The possible outcomes of his future that will no doubt include copious hardships. Instead, you settle for a simple question. “What happens now? How do we do this?”

“Together…love…you…” Tenderly, he places a kiss on your lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos make me write better and faster! I just love hearing what you guys have to say. x


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